


And so my darling, this is how the empire collapses.

by weaslayyy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaslayyy/pseuds/weaslayyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James and Lily, in their first conversation post Severus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And so my darling, this is how the empire collapses.

“Would you mind if I sat down?”

When he looks for a response, she’s wrapped up in all the fabric she could find around the Common Room on the first day of September: an old bedsheet repurposed for picnics on the lake, and a handmade quilt made out of old Gryffindor Quidditch jerseys. She’s worrying the edges of the quilt, rubbing her nails over the last name on the back of one in particular -- “Potter” which is very slowly but steadily succumbing to her mindless, aimless wrath.

He winces, and then takes a seat to her left.

It’s clearly been a less than optimal summer for her. He can see the loneliness in the bitten edges of her nails, anxiety in the way her thigh is moving just slightly underneath the team Captain shirt from three years ago. Her hair’s a little longer than it was a few months ago, and he thinks he can see a knot forming in the back, away from anyone not giving her more than a glance.

This is his reward for looking, then. It’s been three months since Lily Evans’ best friend called her a mudblood, and for some reason it’s James who feels like shit.

“You shouldn’t, you know. Feel like shit. You were a real arse, but that particular fuck up was on Severus.”

Huh. He hadn’t realized that he’d started speaking aloud, but a quick peek at Lily beside him reveals that, while she’s still gazing into the fireplace, she’s also cocked her left eyebrow a bit.

He picks up the challenge.

“Oh?”

A slight quirk to the outer corners of her lips, now.

“Look, Potter. I can, and often do, blame you for many of the things that have gone wrong in my life. The Talking Pumpkins from last Halloween, the Slytherin riots two years before that....”

“...the absence of good quality chocolate fudge at Honeydukes, the abnormal weather patterns, that hideous tartan McGonagall makes her dressing gowns out of....”

“Yes, all that too. My point is, you....cock up. A lot. Just...not this time. Severus made his own choice, and honestly it’s not like he wasn’t calling the rest of us mudbloods. You know, I never could figure out why he had that blind spot about me.”

“Well you were his friend, yeah? Before everything. I reckon he liked you a fair bit, and you’re plenty intelligent....”

“Am I.” She says it like a statement, but he answers it anyway.

“For Merlin’s sake, Evans you know you’re the smartest person I’ve ever come across.”

“Not even Dumbledore?” She’s looking a little lower, almost as if she’d like to be bashful but can’t muster up the energy to be embarrassed by his praise. He continues.

“You’ve got a dash of something that I never quite been able to put my finger on, I don’t really know how to describe it. You’re quite special, Evans. Don’t you dare let those bastards tell you any different, all right?”

“All....right?” Her tone is hesitant for the first time, but her eyes are suddenly warm. She still hasn’t looked at him yet, but for the first time since he hung Severus Snape by the ankles he’s confident that she might eventually. Hopefully. He turns back towards the flames, this time choosing to observe a small patch in the center-left that he thinks kind of looks like McGonagall's animagus..

“Look, Lily....I know that what Snape and I did isn’t equal, but I just wanted to apolo-”

“No. I said no, ok?”

“Not ok, no. I know I’ve been an arsehole, okay? I spent months thinking about what you said, and yeah I’d never call you a you know what, but I’ve been a right git these past couple of years--”

“So what, you’re just going to steamroll over my opinion on whether or not I deserve an apology? Is your pureblood guilt more important than how I actually bloody feel? For fucks sake, Potter right now how the hell are you any different than any of the rest of those tossers?”

She’s animated, more than he’s seen her since he first passed by her compartment on the train earlier this morning. Some small part of him is glad to see it. The rest of him is mildly annoyed that she’s ripping apart the speech he’s been planning all summer.

“I’m trying to apologize, Evans! How does that make me a sodding Death Eater?”

“Every fucking time they insist that I haven’t got a clue how the Wizarding World works, as if I’m some kind of child whose opinion should be discounted! I’m sick and tired of people telling me how I should think and feel and act, what I should and shouldn’t do because I’m a filthy fucking mudblood who hasn’t got a clue what I’m about.”

“Don’t use that--oh.”

He sighs, shoulders sagging as if the energy inside his bones is leaking through the gaps. He looks defeated, feels it as he leans back on the couch, head lolling to the side facing her. For the first time, she looks a little sheepish, though the full force of emotion is still dulled on her face.

“Well the word’s about me, isn’t it? Mudblood. Take it apart and what does it even mean? It’s ridiculous and childish of them, saying that I’ve got sodding dirt running through my veins, and sometimes I just think that if I didn’t let it hurt me so much I’d be all the better for it.”

She’s quiet again, but her eyebrows are furrowed as she speaks. She’s back to fiddling with the quilt, but she’s twisting at the edges as she speaks, a move he’s seen her pull when she’s trying to construct an answer in the midst of presenting it to the class. Normally, he’d point it out, mocking her for speaking before she’s finished thinking, but right now it feels like he’s witnessing some type of revelation.

“I suppose you’re right, Evans, but isn’t that how most words work? They’re only given power by the people who use them. And it’s still a filthy thing to say, to accuse someone of having dirty blood.”

“Sure, but what if I chose not to give it power anymore? If I wore it as a badge instead of something to be ashamed of. You know, I’ve spent all of these years trying to prove that I’m better than my parents, more than where I come from, that I can be just as good as any of those inbred shitsacks. But I love my parents, in fact I’m proud of them. They’re absolutely fantastic, and I’m bloody proud to be their daughter. If that means I’m proud to be a mudblood, than so be it.”  

She’s glaring at the fire, eyes cold as she dares the flames to respond. He smiles, because what a Lily thing to say.

“I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m not rushing to call you that, even if you are proud of your family.”

And now she’s smiling too, grinning as she pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I suppose I might, in my infinite generosity consider doing so.”

Suddenly her face gets softer, the smirk smoothes out into something kinder than he thinks he deserves as she finally shifts away from the fire to look at him for the first time since that terrible afternoon last May.

She stares at him, with eyes full of something he can’t quite figure out. He thinks that he wants to be given the opportunity to try, to spend the rest of his days mapping out the constellations she creates from the freckles of his universe. He wonders if she knows. There’s something about the turn of her lips that makes him think she does.

“Potter....”

“James.” He doesn’t know what she’s about to say, but she’s never called him that before, or at least not on purpose, and for some reason he’s almost desperate to hear her lips form around the syllables of his first name. He thinks that someone as smart as Lily might be able to find make out deep meaning behind that, but he can’t think when her eyes are searching the lines of his face, searching for something he hopes she’ll be able to find.

“James then.” Her smile deepens as she enunciates the syllables, and he doesn’t think anyone else in the entire history of time itself has ever said his name quite like she does in this one moment.

“You’re forgiven, James.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any weirdness in the characterization. Any and (almost) all feedback would be appreciated!


End file.
